


Protective Words

by silentexplorer18



Category: Colby Brock - Fandom, Sam and Colby, youtube - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Nightmares, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Writers, traphouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentexplorer18/pseuds/silentexplorer18
Summary: When Colby has a nightmare, he finds comfort in both you and your eloquent writing style.
Relationships: Colby Brock & Reader, Colby Brock/reader
Kudos: 19





	Protective Words

**Author's Note:**

> I've edited this a bit from my original post on Tumblr (quite a while ago) to make it sound a little better and be a bit more inclusive.  
> This one's for all the writers out there! :)

You were up, but you were always up. The boys tended to drop off one by one at night, but you stayed on your usual perch on the couch, fingertips fluttering away at your keyboard. You were working on your first draft of your novel, words jumping onto the page as your imagination ran rampant. There you would sit as long as you needed to get your mind to quiet so you could fall asleep peacefully. Tonight, you just kept going, writing and writing into all hours of the night while the boys slept peacefully.

Or not so peacefully.

Colby was thrashing around in his bed, sweat dripping down his naked chest before his body lurched forward. Eyes snapping open, he panted as he looked around his room. He’d had nightmares before, but tonight’s dream was different, more intense than his previous ones. He knew that there was no way he would be able to go to sleep again after something so unnerving had riled him from slumber. Taking a shaky breath, he rose from his bed, resolving to get a drink. Maybe that would settle his nerves enough to fall back asleep.

You heard him pad down the stairs and pull a glass of water from the kitchen. As odd as it was for him to be up at this hour, it was even more odd to hear him heavily sigh before turning to ascend the steps once again.

Something was wrong with him. You could feel it in your stomach as you hit save on your draft, tucking the laptop under your arm as you padded up the stairs and toward his closed bedroom door.

The underside of his door was glowing. Another rarity at this late hour.

Knocking gently, you twisted open the knob and peeked your head in shyly. “Colby?”

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, lamp illuminating the room. Dark circles were smeared under his eyes, and he had been rubbing his face when you’d arrived. His brow furrowed when he saw it was you. “(Y/n)?”

Slipping through the door and clicking it shut as to not rouse Sam, you said softly, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… I wanted to check on you. You’re usually not up this late and you sounded kinda off when you went in the kitchen.” Embarrassment contorted your expression the longer you rambled on, hands beginning to wring out of habit. “I can leave if you want. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His voice was rough, croaky. “No. You aren’t bothering anything. Come in.” His hands gestured to the fluffy duvet beside him. Hesitantly, you moved across his room, plopping down next to him. “What are you doing up?” he queried.

“I was writing," you cradled your laptop protectively. "I’m always up this late. What’s your excuse?” your eyes jumped up to his blue ones, cloudy with exhaustion.

Rubbing his neck, he seemed to stumble for an answer. “Well… um…” he coughed, “I had a nightmare.”

You gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Colby. Do you want to talk about it?”

With a bashful look, he shook his head. “Not really, but,” he paused, eyes darting back to your computer, “writing?”

You bit your lip. The boys didn’t know much about your writing. It wasn’t that you were trying to keep it a secret, but it was quieter at night to write, so you didn’t often discuss it with them. “Yeah. My novel.”

His brow quirked at you, smirk rising on his face. “Wanna read to me?”

Your eyes went wide as you attempted to combat the nervousness in your chest. Nobody had read it yet. You hadn’t felt ready to send it off to be read. But something in your heart told you Colby wouldn’t laugh. He wouldn’t mock the bad parts or question the weird parts. Glancing skeptically at him, you said, “Really?”

Grinning, he turned on his bed, resting against the headboard, again patting the spot next to him. You shifted beside him before clicking open your laptop and softly beginning to read the words off the page. Your voice was hesitant, nervous at first, but as his head tilted to your shoulder, captivated by the words on the screen, your voice started to grow a little more confident. You just kept going, but after an hour, your eyes began to droop despite your best efforts to keep reading aloud.

Looking up, Colby noticed the way your eyes fluttered as your words slowed. Gently, he pulled the laptop from your lap, placing it on his desk. Then he rolled over, pulling you under the covers. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I can go.”

“No,” he whispered, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “It’s better when you’re here.” That was the last thing you heard before drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

You woke up to an empty bed the next morning. Looking up, you saw a shirtless Colby at his desk, eyes flowing over your laptop intently. “Colby?” you mumbled, stretching as you began to sit up.

He met your gaze, smile forming on his face as he saw you. “(Y/n), this is so good. I had no idea you could write like this.”

You smiled back at him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me when I’m alone in the dark, Brock.”

“I’d love to find out,” he said with a wink, turning back to your writing.

From then on, you and Colby followed a simple nightly ritual. When he couldn’t sleep, he would pad down the steps, pulling your tired body up into his bed to read to him, eventually falling asleep together.

The longer this went on, the more tired you became of uprooting yourself each night. Eventually, you found yourself climbing into Colby’s bed each night with your laptop, writing and reading to him intermittently as he would edit or check social media. Sometimes you would just write and fall asleep, never reading to him at all.

His arms would travel to you in his slumber, protectively holding you to his chest. Asleep, his mind ran wild with the plot of your story, of the incredibleness of you, and of how bright you made his days and nights. With the excitement of your words and your sleepy figure cuddling into him, he’d found the perfect armor to ward off his nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://silentexplorer18.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
